


Dog Days

by plasma_in_ink



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Rarepair, Somehow Fluff, dog dads, good ending, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasma_in_ink/pseuds/plasma_in_ink
Summary: It had taken exactly the value of a good dog’s pain to bring the mismatched pair deep into the Northwest Wasteland, far North of Vegas, towards the mountain gleaming with snow...
Relationships: Caesar/Rex, Caesar/The King, The King/Rex
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Dog Days

Rex whined and pawed at his braincase in the middle of the desert road. His weathered cybernetics gleamed dully in the Mojave sun. The enigmatic Freesider known as The King kneeled to soothe him as a more imposing figure looked on. All alone in the wasteland they were – or so it seemed. The man who stood, watching, knew that his men were everywhere, cloaked in shadow and sunlight, ready to leap into action to protect him.

Their Caesar.

“It’s going to be okay, Rexy,” the King whispered to the crying dog, “You just hang on a bit longer, you old hound dog. Just a bit longer.”

Ceasar was quiet as he watched the dog, remembering a better time when Rex had fought bravely by his side without pain. Fierce and loyal, the faithful hound did not deserve… this. He, the mighty Caesar, had a chance to reward him properly… if the Follower’s information was correct.

“The doctor is in Jacobstown, correct?” he said, as Rex’s fit passed.

“Sure, if Julie’s information is correct. She didn’t sound too sure herself.”

“I doubt Dr. Farkas has gotten a chance to leave Freeside since she arrived,” Ceasar said, his grin almost fond, even if he did not personally know her. He did, though, know her type. Who knew why the Followers did what they did, but he respected them for it; For every drop of blood they bled out of their own bodies in the name of peace and knowledge… for every disgusting savage they tried to save for themselves… for every page of lost information they preserved… he, the head of the great monster of the East, saluted them. “Still, my sources tell me that her ears are sharp – If she knows of the reclusive Jacobstown, then she likely would know if there was a doctor there that could treat a cyberdog. It’s worth the trip, don’t you think.”

The King didn’t need to say anything – it took a great deal of convincing to bring him from his throne near the stage of his gang’s home… as much as it had taken to convince Caesar to leave the Fort (and the security of his endeavors in the Mojave,) in even the best of hands (despite being comparatively short-handed without Graham by his side.)

It had taken exactly the value of a good dog’s pain to bring them deep into the Northwest Wasteland, far North of Vegas, towards the mountain gleaming with snow.

Rex barked reassuringly, and the two – three of them – began to move again towards the long, switchback road up the great Mount Charleston.

***

The King knew they were an odd pair, him and Caesar, and he couldn’t say that he agreed with what the man was doing… but he could respect the man for doing it.

“… A man’s gotta follow his own heart,” the King said, as they ascended the mountain through groves of green trees ( _trees,_ of all things! The enigmatic Freesider had never seen so much green in one place before. It felt… unnatural.) “He’s gotta believe in something – and make himself into what he believes in… Make his own path and stay true to it. You follow?”

“… I think I follow.”

“No man, you _lead._ How I’ve heard it - What you did, way back when, when it was just you and a tribe that wasn’t even _yours,_ you decided to follow your heart and fight. No giving up, no going with what someone else wanted you to do. You fought instead of curlin’ up all helpless. You won instead of dying. And then, you had a fire in your heart, so you kept going. That’s something I respect –“ The King tapped his chest, around his heart, “any true King would respect it.”

“Yeah?” the warlord didn’t break his stride, despite the rough terrain of the broken road. “So what? When I come marching into Freeside, am I going to meet you as a friend, or meet your pistol?”

The King laughed, “Nah, man, if you came in, we’d fight you like devils,” he said, “We don’t bow to nobody – we’re _Kings,_ baby!”

“Okay, but what’s the point if we eviscerate every single one of you and decorate your little Freeside stage with the bodies? You could ally with us and find a place with the Legion. What good do you do as a Freeside gang? What good are you dead? The Legion is many things and many people, Mr. King, but it gives people purpose. You deserve better than to rot in the sun.”

“Like I said, a man’s gotta follow his heart” The King smiled at Rex, who led them onwards just a few paces ahead. Rex had been with him for a very short time, and he’d been reluctant to leave _his_ city in Pacer’s hands… but Freeside took care of itself, and took care of its own. And Rex… was his own. “He’s gotta be free to fight for _his_ own cause…” He glanced over at Caesar, “If he ain’t willing to die for it, then what’s the point?”

“Don’t be a fool…” The warlord paused, “if you died,” he said, after a moment’s contemplation, “what would Rex think?”

“Oh, that old boy understands,” the King said. Rex stopped to look back at them, his deep amber eyes, glittering slightly with both sunlight and the glow of his braincase. “He understands a lot. He’s seen a lot. He’s lost a lot. That old dog might be no man, but he’s on his own road, too,” Rex barked happily and wagged his tail as they got close, “and he’s chosen to walk with both of us.”

“He has, hasn’t he?” Caesar pat the dog’s head as he approached to, the King noticed, Rex’s great joy. “It’d be a shame to have to put him down after all of this, just because he fought for the wrong leader.”

“If you think he’d ever consider either of us wrong, you’ve got another thing coming, baby!” The King laughed, and didn’t bother to elaborate. If the mighty Caesar didn’t understand his boy’s mind, then the King wouldn’t enlighten him.

_Let him figure it out himself. It’ll be good for him._

Of course, it was only thanks to Rex that the King was able to get away with it, but there – his good deed for the day, opening a warlord’s mind to the possibilities beyond right and wrong. There was only what you – dog or man – put your mind to. Be that love or war or a small purported super mutant settlement high in a place too cold to exist, there were more things possible beyond the Bull and the Bear.

That was the way of the dog, and the way of the Kings.

***

The Follower’s road of peace was novel in this bloody wasteland – but it had failed. Still, were it not for their bright-hearted foolishness, Caesar would not be here. His nation would be nothing – barely specks of dust on the Arizona breeze. Not a single echo of ancient Rome would ring through the desert – so in a sense, even as the Followers fell apart from within, the Legion took up their flag. Dyed red and written upon with old ways far more ancient than the concrete and stones of America, their flag rose - over a nation that would change everything. Peace for peace sake? It had had its time.

_If peace meant slavery, so be it._

Caesar suspected the doctor here in Jacobstown had made a similar choice long ago. He was no Followers doctor or an NCR hack. Instead, he fit in well with the super mutants – these potent soldiers of a novel nation, stillborn… from what he knew, anyway. Not much was known about the Master, or the super mutants, though Caesar remembered the remains of the Great Cathedral in the L.A. Boneyard.

Back when he’d been called Edward Sallow, his foster mother – a tough-as-nails (but kind) Followers doctor – had shown him the ruins and told him that the things that were buried there were just as valuable as any archive… and that the people who had come from it were just as valuable. He never got to meet the cultists – they all died when he was still young – but he had believed her words and had seen for himself how people held deep knowledge inside themselves… locked away. That, he had determined, had been the start of Edward Sallow the short-lived anthropologist.

What bullshit that had been – but it had led him here. It had probably led the doctor here as well.

“So, what you’re saying is that you need a fresh dog brain. Will any dog do?” Caesar stroked Rex’s fur absently as the dog rested on his side in the examination room.

“No, unfortunately,” the doctor said. Caesar was surprised at how calmly the man regarded him and his entourage, as if seeing a warlord, several armored warriors, and a man dressed in leathers and ‘more hair gel than you could shake a stick at.’ If this was what happened when one lived and worked in a town of super mutants, then Caesar could respect that. “Cyber dogs were specially bred and raised to be able to take on the cybernetics they were given. Their brains are exceptional, and only another exceptional brain will do.”

“Exceptional?”

“Yes. A dog that is intelligent, cunning, or highly trainable. They don’t have to be a bioengineered dog, but they have to be fairly… brainy. With good coordination.”

“Here’s a question, Doc,” said the King, who had been in the room, leaning against a wall the whole time, “Will this boy forget us? You’re saying he needs an all new brain – will our boy Rex…” Caesar’s eyes narrowed at the ‘our’ part, but he let the man talk, “remember who we are?”

“Yes,” said the doctor, looking down at the dog, “He’ll remember. The cybernetics actually record his memories, and the procedure allows his thoughts, memories, and personality to be backed up. Switching to a new brain will be relatively seamless for him – he’ll have the memories of the new dog and his own memories.”

“Allright, man, but will he be _Rex_ is what I’m asking.”

“Yes. Good question.” Caesar ran his fingers along the dog’s hide again. _If you don’t come back you, Rex, then it would be better,_ he thought, regarding the loyal canine with something approximating kindness, _to let you die, wouldn’t it._

“Yes. He would. Cyberdog personalities are dominant – he might change slightly with his new brain, but I believe that the current cyberdog personality would be retained. If you have a brain.”

“How do we find an exceptional dog? What exactly does that mean?” Caesar asked, relieved – there was hope for Rex’s mind as well as his body.

“I don’t know much about dogs,” the doctor admitted, looking up as a looming shape darkened the doorway – one of the blue-skinned super mutants looked down on them angrily, as if it wanted to see the lot of them crushed to red paste. “However, I would assume that a dog that has… some sort of remarkable or notable quality would work? If they are anything like humans, a notably-brained dog will be… well, notable. Excuse me.” The doctor left to attend to the super mutant patient.

“Well,” the King said, striding confidently to Rex’s side, “Can’t say that I know any remarkable mutts walking around Freeside that would be worthy of our boy… I hear tell that there’s a lady down by Novac with a whole bunch of dogs, though, and there’s that Fiend bitch in the ruins that has some nasty old hounds. Maybe they’ve got a dog that would do him right...”

Casear watched him intently. “You said _our_ dog. You keep saying _our_ dog. Why?”

“Why not, man?” The King said, shrugging, “We’re both here for him, baby. You haven’t nailed me to a cross, and I haven’t gotten you jumped in the ruins – not that I’m that kind of guy, but you’ve got to admit, we wouldn’t be within ten feet without blades drawn if it weren’t for this good boy here,” Rex wagged his tail, “So why not own it and call him ours?”

Caesar thought on that for a few moments, before turning to one of his personal guard. “Praetorian – your Caesar has a question for you,” he said, voice low.

“I will answer, my lord,”

“Is there not a dog, presently at the Fort, who is noted for her exceptional ferocity and cunning?”

“Yes, my lord. Lupa, mother of the finest war dogs of the legion.”

“Would you say that she’s exceptional?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. See to it that she is fetched here. Immediately.”

It was a testament to how well he had brainwashed his men that his request to travel through the mountains, across the Mojave and the Colorado through NCR-held lands, to retrieve a single dog-bitch and bring her all the way back to this nothing of a place... was met with a half bow and a resolute “It will be done, my lord.”

Caesar knew his will would, indeed, be done immediately – his personal guard knew well what happened when someone failed him. Wreathed in his own power, he turned back to the watching King. “There.”

The King only smirked. “Hey,” he said, “Whatever gets Rexy his brain, am I right?” He stroked Rex behind the ears, “If I were you, and I’m not,” he said, voice easy in a way that made Caesar instantly wary, “I’d go see about those other hound dogs. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few brains for our boy to pick from… am I right?” Rex licked his hand, “It’d be a hassle, though, for sure. Might take a few days and a few men.”

Caesar thought for a moment. “I’m the living embodiment of a god,” he said finally, “they can deal with it.” Two other Praetorian guards were given their orders that day – less specific than the first, but all accepted with equal reverence. It was just him, the King, and one of his guard, now. In a town full of super mutants.

 _And Rex._ He thought, realizing that the King hadn’t been wrong, _There is also Rex._ A few days away from his nation? Basically alone? With Rex there, he didn’t think there would be a problem.

***

The muscular super mutant towered over the leather-clad Freesider, a terrifying sight – but the enigmatic man known as ‘the King’ didn’t budge as the huge being _growled_ quietly at him.

“Listen,” Marcus said, voice forced into something resembling calm, “I have a policy at Jacobstown. You don’t cause trouble for us, I don’t cause trouble for you, we all live and let live.”

“Fair enough, friend,” the King said, “I get your drift. So, what’s the issue?”

“Well, _friend,_ you’ve been here for a few days, enough time for me to figure out who you’re with. Now, you aren’t causing trouble exactly, but bringing _a goddamned warlord_ to _my town_ is _not_ good publicity. Any day now, I’m going to get NCR mercenaries and assassins knocking at my door looking for his head, and I’m pretty sure they won’t bother to actually knock or check heads.”

The King shifted, “Listen, man, I get that you might have a problem soon. I get that. But we can’t leave yet.”

“The dog – I heard that too. I sympathize, honestly, I do. You’d do anything for that dog, I’d do anything for my people. If more humans cared about other living things like you do, the world would be a much better place.” Marcus grimaced, “… so about how much longer are you and your _friend_ going to stay?”

“As long as it takes, friend, as long as it takes.”

“That’s not going to cut it…” Marcus glanced over at the ski chalet, running a hand down his grotesque face. In the distance, super mutants milled about their business. Lily Bowen tended to her bighorners. Other super mutants tended to the chilly farms.

“The hell puppers!” One of the Nightkin let out a cry, punching a pillar hard enough to make it shake… but not break, the place had been built strong. “The hell puppers are coming! To be chosen! To become one with the great hell! The great pupper! The servants of the battle cattle will be here!” they cried out again, ignored. Even the King didn’t jump – in the few days he’d been here, he’d gotten used to the outbursts. Pitied them. Unlike the junkies of his home, though, there was hope here for these poor crazy brutes. The King wanted to help if he could, but leaving Rex’s side felt like leaving a bit of himself behind, and he wasn’t sure he could do what it took to help.

“You being here is unsettling the other super mutants. Saying ‘as long as it takes’ is just not going to cut it.” Marcus sighed, “Look. I’ll give the two of you three more days to wrap this up. More if the dog’s surgery needs it, because I’m not a complete asshole, but then you have to _go._ ”

“Fair enough,” The King said, resigned, about to turn away… but then pausing, as something caught his eye just beyond the gates to Jacobstown. The dull shine of gunmetal.

Marcus followed his gaze. “Oh shit…” he said with a groan, “Mercenaries. Exactly what I do not need right now. Either the NCR hired them to take out your friend, or they’re just here to drive us off. Either way, they are a problem…”

“Tell you what,” said the King, “I owe you for letting us stay and all. The King always repays his favors, you see, so how about I help you deal with them?”

“Go for it,” Marcus said, shrugging, “You’re human, so maybe they’ll actually listen to you.”

The King walked over with all of the confidence of a man fully sure of himself. They were well-armed – back in the day, these fuckers would have easily walked over every ragtag tribal and wasteland inhabitant of the Vegas ruins. Their armor was high class, their weapons were quality. Back in the day, the King himself knew that he would have had to get out of their way – or scrounged up an impossible army of his people to kick them out.

Now, however, the King was confident enough to walk alone and unarmed up to the men. “Hey,” he said, waving calmly, clearly unarmed, “You fellas lost?”

“Oh, hey,” said the leader, who gave him an even-tempered look. He didn’t know who he was messing with and, the King figured, probably didn’t care. Still, the King put swagger in his step – even when someone didn’t know your name, you still had your dignity. “A human helping the muties? That’s something strange, for sure.”

“Sure it’s something, baby. Whatcha want, and whatcha need to head out into the breeze?”

“Well, that depends…”

It didn’t take long for the King to figure it out – easy stuff. These were professionals, hired by those NCR bastards, sure, but not strictly loyal to them. Hardened folks they were – willing to fight hard, but not necessarily to the last man.

“… One way or the other, friend, we’re getting our payment. If you’re working with the muties and want us to go quietly, then they can pay the other half of our fee and we’ll be on our way.”

That… left a bad taste in The King’s mouth. It stank of protection rackets and extortion games. His gang never engaged in protection rackets – those Kings that did it under his nose learned, quickly, what it meant to cross him. _These fellows are going to be back again and again to collect the same pay from these folks,_ he thought, an arrangement that the super mutants of Jacobstown didn’t deserve to deal with. “How long are you folks willing to wait on my answer?” he asked, assessing the group once more – obviously, a physical altercation was out of the picture. He was, after all, unarmed – without his gang, there wasn’t much he could do on that front.

“Until we get paid or the muties shoot back. Tell you what, we’ll hold off for a little while so that you can go and get our caps from that extra big fellow there – he’s the mayor, isn’t he?”

“Something like that, baby. Hold tight.” The King said, giving them a little wave as he walked away. He stopped by Marcus’s side.

“Well?” The super mutant’s anxiety was palpable, and The King felt bad for him.

“They’re after blood or money,” he said, “But don’t worry about it. I’ll be good for it.”

“Are you sure? I have caps in the treasury. If that’s what it takes to get them to leave quietly…”

The King held up his hand regally, a call for silence that even the mayor of Jacobstown obeyed. “I’ll be good for it – consider it a favor from the King. Consider us even, for the trouble I might have caused.”

“All right, fine – that’s very kind of you…” Marcus looked out at the mercenaries warily, his voice distant.

“Not at all, just doing what’s right. Give me a bit to get it together…” striding with purpose, the King headed towards the lodge. He had caps on him sure – not an unreasonable sum of caps, since he’d been prepared to cut off an arm and a leg to help Rex if he had to – but he wasn’t the only one who owed Marcus and, here, he would take a stand.

This was a shared responsibility – a shared debt, and the Mighty Caesar would help him. Or, failing that, the King would make him pay in one way or another.

***

The air in the lodge felt colder than usual as Caesar stared down the slicked-down _upstart_ known as The King. The Praetorian guard who remained with him stood at tense attention, ready to bring the _profligate_ to his rightful place – his knees.

“If you want to pay off these mercenaries, for whatever reason” Caesar said, voice sharp, “then do it yourself.”

“You owe these fine super mutants about as much as I do for what we’ve brought to this place,” said the King, his demeanor as cool as the icy air – but Caesar could feel the fire in his gaze. _How insolent!_ He thought, furious. No one had dared to stand before him like this for years, and Caesar would not – could not - for it. “The least you can do, friend, is _pay this little rent._ ”

“I do not _pay rent,_ Freesider. I _take._ I _conquer._ ” He saw his guard shift slightly – their conversation had attracted super mutant attention. The blue-skinned nightstalkers and the green-skinned… others… alike. “I show my gratitude by leaving this place the way I found it – outside of all laws – instead of _taking it_ completely. Do you understand?!”

“Oh, we understand…” growled the slightly smaller nightkin in the back of the gathering group, “we understand very well, don’t we Leo?”

At her words, the super mutant watchers muttered an assent, and the tension only grew. If Caesar drew his machete (instead of his pneumatic fist) he could probably cut the thickening air with it.

“I thought the mighty Caesar was a man,” said the King, voice sharper than any blade, his eye contact maintained but his voice flippant and oily, as if he was now speaking to the crowd and not to Caesar himself. “But maybe he isn’t as strong in his principles as he claims to be. If you don’t have honor, you aren’t much of a man. Or a person. Get me? I’m going to do the honorable thing, and you’re going to do it with me.”

Caesar bared his teeth in rage, the throbbing beginnings of a headache coming on. This _fucker_ needed to be _nailed to a cross_ and _whipped with brand-tipped lashes._ The room became unbearable, the scent of blood already in the air.

Rex, resting at his feet, whined.

Caesar looked down at the dog – a brave dog who was a veteran of many battles – who now looked up at him pleadingly. The dog – by sheer virtue of being a dog – had never asked for much, and was sated with little. But now, Caesar felt, as his headache began to spread, the dog was _asking._

For a favor.

 _“Very well,”_ Caesar growled, “I will pay my half of this… _fee._ ” He waved his guard to _deal with the issue somehow,_ “When I take Vegas and you find yourself at my mercy, I hope that you remember your insolence today, and accept my _gratitude_.”

“Thank you very much,” said The King, accepting the offered currency that the guard scrounged up – plenty, or perhaps, enough. “We’ll get there when we get there,” the King said, leaving for the settlement outside.

And, with that, the tension broke, and the super mutants began to wander off – the short one staring at them for a solid minute more before leaving, mumbling to herself and shaking her head.

“Leave us,” he said, to the praetorian guard, who followed the King into the snow.

Rex licked Caesar’s hand and he stroked the dog’s fur. The pain in his head throbbed against his skull, auras dancing in front of his eyes. He felt sick, as if he was about to explode, but the feel of Rex’s fur – and then, with almost natural suddenness – the feel of his head nuzzling into his arms, helped immensely.

“Goddamnit…” he hissed, opening his eyes to Rex’s sincere, concerned face, “I don’t know how much longer I can hide this…”

Rex understood – about as well as anyone, Caesar realized, staring at the dog’s braincase as the pain finally subsided. _Better than anyone._

“My lord?” Caesar looked up, annoyed, as the guard returned.

“Yes?”

“Two of the three dogs have arrived.”

“Good. And the mercenaries?”

“On their way down the mountain, my lord.”

Caesar stroked Rex’s soft ears again, and then stood. “Good enough. Bring the dogs here – I will choose the one honored to become this dog’s brain. The man known as The King is to have no say in this.”

“The third dog should be arriving shortly…”

“We will not wait for that,” Caesar said harshly. The King had disrespected him, and so he would give him this disrespect – petty, but it would be enough. “Bring the dogs. And inform the doctor that the surgery happens _tonight._ ”

***

The King was very upset that the choice of dog brain had been taken from him, but he knew – as he peered out over the balcony of the lodge, that it didn’t actually matter in the end. Let Caesar have his little power play – in the end, Rex got a new brain, and that was what mattered. As far as the Freesider knew, the surgery was going well. He wasn’t sure if these things were supposed to take hours, but he was also no doctor.

Below, Caesar himself paced, his guards giving any onlookers pause – as did the three dead dogs in the nearby pile. A shame, to waste such good dogs when only one was needed, but the King knew that anything – anything at all – was worth Rex.

“Excuse me,”

The King turned to see that Calamity, the ghoul doctor (or whatever she was) who worked with the Doctor had come up to the balcony, too. “Hey,” he said, giving her a wave and a smile.

“The operation is over,” she rasped out, smiling back, “Doctor Henry thought that you would want to be there when the dog woke up.”

“I sure do,” the King said, glancing down at the scene below – where the doctor himself was telling the warlord the same thing, by the King’s figuring. “I sure do.”

“Yeah… he thinks that both of you should be there,” Calamity said, shaking her head, “I thought it should be just you, though. That man is bad news.”

“He is,” the King agreed, “That he is – but he’s also a part of that dog’s life, and I wouldn’t force them to split for the world.”

The ghoul shrugged. “Hey,” she said, heading back inside, “That’s my take.”

The King sighed, letting water vapor smoke out into the cold air. “I getcha, sister,” he muttered, before he went inside himself… to his best friend’s bedside. What was best for Rex, right?

The thought made him smile.

***

His surgery over, Rex rested between the two humans he loved most. He knew that one day they would be at each other’s throats, just as – even then - he did not always understand why humans were so often in conflict. They were, for now, united by him. Together, they were a pack - Three kings, even. In another place, another time, they could all be together – be pack – forever. Forever for sure, since he was healthy now – his brain new and working well, and no longer hurting. He was good for another 200 years, and in dog terms, that was an eternity.

He knew that was not to be, though. One day, he would have to pick a side and choose who would be given – and who would receive – his teeth and claws and new brain. He dreaded that day – but that day was not yet. And he was a dog – the _now_ was the most important part, and for now, he had to choose no side, for he was at both. He looked up at them both with intelligent eyes filled with love and enjoyed their hands on his fur.

He laid his head on one lap, his forepaws on the other, and he let himself drift into their warmth. This was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> The sixth of my attempts to create a few rarepair fics for Fallout New Vegas. My goal was to play with unusual pairings with the courier playing as little a role as possible.
> 
> The pairing here is Caesar and The King, both people who don't go by their own names, both highly charismatic... and representing almost distinct opposites. The King values free will and one's own path, Caesar... is a dictatorial monster whose nation is built on the backs of slavery and conquest. And yet, they apparently have one thing in common: the dog, Rex.
> 
> Getting The King out of Freeside was a simple matter of having him decide to go to Jacobstown and take care of his good boy himself. Caesar is a little more difficult, but Rex is known in the Legion and they respect him as a fighter. Maybe a spy he fought alongside brings a petition to Caesar, and maybe Caesar decides to handle things himself. Or, maybe, he feels he owes the dog something. Or, it can be as simple as he wants to see if there's a way to cure his brain tumor through the same avenues. I'm leaving that up in the air - the beauty of a rarepair oneshot is that I don't have to make that sort of thing too solid.
> 
> As for the courier and the state of the dam, it is left completely ambiguous. I have no idea what the courier is up to, or what path they take.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading... and keep an eye out for more rarepair works in the future!


End file.
